


Looking for Redemption

by YourJuniperberry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coping, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, much angst much suffering much self-hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourJuniperberry/pseuds/YourJuniperberry
Summary: After the second wizarding war Lucius struggles with addiction, swirling deeper and deeper. Right then him and Narcissa find out that they are expecting another child. How is he going to deal with this all?(It is in the tags: drugs. Don't read if that triggers you!)
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Kudos: 8





	Looking for Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Warning again: drugs. Don't read if that triggers you!
> 
> I made up this substance, nothing real.
> 
> In this story I am just musing about what I think it would be like if Lucius decided to cope like this after the war. Don't hold anything against me!
> 
> Enjoy!

A small fire tried to find more life for itself in the belly of a great, stone fireplace. But for now the cold reigned over it. A product of a sloppy spellcasting, one might conclude.

But he did not bother, not at all. Not anymore. No one saw him now anyway.

Lucius slumped down on the leather sofa facing the miserable fire. He stared back at it for a while. This cold was something, as it suppressed any chance of warmth. It tingled his skin. It gave meaning to the small black shadows falling down the old, stone walls. The heavy snowflakes of January. The little servants of this cold.

It gave meaning to everything. It was everything. That is how his gaze slowly wandered further down to the salon table in front of him. There sat a wooden box with delicate, gilded patterns on it. This small box was too beautiful for this. No, it was beautiful enough. Because it charmed him again, like a veela. It was almost painful. He ached. Gods, he was pathetic! But he brought it all upon himself, didn’t he?

Eventually he did reach for the box. The strong smell of the dried substance hit him immediately. It was musky and sour at the same time. Suffocating him. It got to his brain now. It....he needed it! It should be harmless, he told himself each time. It was! The shamans right at the edge of Middle-Europe used it to get into a trance like state. Of course, when the dried mixture reached Knockturn Alley, a weaker product fell into the hands of witches and wizards who wished to remain unnoticed. Still, like the shamans, Lucius as well could control his bliss; control what to feel, what to see.

Bent over, he stuffed his long pipe, a few drops hit the floor but he pretended, he did not notice. He layed back again, his back already melting into the leather sofa. He gently lit the pipe with his wand and after five puffs to get the mixture flowing, it hit.

With a long exhale he laid his head back letting a cloud of smoke linger above him. He learned to control it. This numb feeling that now ran through his veins. While the shamans chased dreams that would make them see the wishes of God or Gods, he chased an intangible desire for an indescribable feeling.

At first he thought he wanted to feel the happy memories of the past, hear those voices. When Draco was still very young, one tooth missing. He imagined his smile, his ringing laugh in sync with Narcissa’s. He imagined her, countless times. Imagined her being happy and burdenless. He felt the warmth of one night when they all set in his study. But that became unbearable soon. It hit him right in the gut. He felt more guilty than ever. The happiness then became a nightmare. Endlessly ringing in his ear only leaving when the substance as well left his blood. He tried that a couple of times, maybe he messed up something, but he always ended up with his head in his hands, fingers pulling his hair to feel the pain of reality, as if trying to pull him out of this lucid dream. He could not control his tears. They just flowed down his face burning his cheek, and his throat.

But each time there was this state that he slipped over for a long time. A state of bliss that he forgot about while chasing that fake, nightmarish happiness. A state that drew him back each time to these dried leaves. The state of nothing.

He laid there now like that, in the state of nothing. His arms spread out beside him, head on the back of the sofa. His mind was empty, his chest felt like it was floating from the forgotten weight of burden. His fingers as well felt weightless. It was a miracle that the pipe stayed in his hand. There were no thoughts, no memories. No Darco. Not even his Narcissa. Not even him. Just this nothing. It almost made the edge of his thin lips turn upwards. 

His battered, tired face settled, too. He looked somewhat younger. His actual age.

He laid there like that for unknown amounts of minutes.

Then he dared to slowly return to reality but this shaman mixture shielded him from any feelings or tangible thoughts. 

That miserable fire was still flickering in the huge fireplace but he did not feel the cold. He felt its mild warmth now.

He heard the door open in the distance; he heard its faint echo buzz around his head.

It was Narcissa, he felt her. She penetrated through every barrier he has ever built around him. She sat down on the salon table, waiting for him to look back at her, but Lucius kept staring at the flames. They were dancing; dancing in a circle like…

“Lucius!” she called out calmly.

Merlin, how was she so patient with him?

He couldn’t look at her.

She knew about this whole guilty escape he chased but barely said anything about it. Lucius knew that she disapproved. He saw it in her beautiful, sad eyes. But she let him. Whatever to get her other half through this whole misery they went through in the past two years. 

He was so weak!

And she glowed. She glowed as he looked at her now! As ever...Or was it this thing that did it to her?

“I finished earlier than I expected at the healer” she started.

She went to St. Mungo’s? Was there something wrong? She didn’t really seem ill, did she?

But his face showed nothing. His pale, silver eyes only tried to see through the glow surrounding her.

“I had my suspicions, hence why I decided to pay a visit today.” she continued, even though she got no reaction from her husband. “ I am pregnant, Lucius.” she blurted out in the end.

_ What? _ the question echoed through his empty head.

How could this....Narcissa hasn’t been pregnant since the Quidditch World Cup. They decided then not to ever try again. That miscarrige was their worst yet. Until the second wizarding war, he knew no more frightening moment than that. He donated a great sum to St. Mungo’s for saving his wife. They agreed never to try again. Agreed to be careful. Well, it seems like they weren’t so careful after all.

He clenched his fists, his pipe almost cracking under his strength.

They always wanted a big family. At least a sibling for Draco, but luck always abandoned them in this matter. They went through a lot, but they were always ecstatic when they found out that Narcissa was expecting. Now? Now it was choking him. It clenched his stomach into a small ball.

He wants to be happy. He was happy deep down somewhere. He will be. Right?

“Say something!” she whispered. Only then did he notice that tears were threatening to burst from her eyes, her sweet lips almost trembling. He has been just sitting there staring back at her blankly.

His hand put down the pipe beside her and pulled her into his lap, making her straddle his hips. Their eyes finally met in the silence. They created an unbreakable link. He reached for her face, his fingers diving deep into her hair. The shield he created a few minutes ago, broke. It let through everything. Whatever was radiating from him or his wife. Now everything was buzzing all at once in him.

He kissed her deeply, longing for that nectar. She gave in; gave in to his emotions, his need. He held her close to him. His finger digging into her neck and thigh. Closer! Closer.!

If he is suffocating, let him do it right! Let him choke on it! Choke on all these feelings. This happiness, this misery, this desire, this hopelessness.

His hands reached for her breasts, kneading and caressing. His hungry lips followed soon. He kissed the flesh of her freed breasts, gently bit her hardening bud. She was panting above him. Her pale cheeks were flushed from their needy heat. This need was burning unbearably in his belly.

She felt his desire pressing in her, she ground against it. Before he could notice, his hands were pulling her skirt further above, then tearing her stockings away. Like an animal. 

Now! Now!

Narcissa reached for his hands.

“Lucius! Lucius!” she managed to call out, her desire completely ruled over her voice.

She tried to stop him; stop them. Fighting everything that took over them. She didn’t want it like this; she couldn’t want it. It is not right.

“Narcissa, please!” was all he sighed. Their eyes locked again, burning from everything.

That was all that she needed. Because she gave in. Soon he was buried deep in her heat. He was almost clawing her thighs as he was trying to hold her close to him. As close as possible. They got lost in their needy thrusts. Their chest pressed together, aching when they accidentally broke contact. And their lips were linked in demanding, duelling kisses. 

It was hard to breathe, it was hard to think. Hard to do anything but to chase their end, their bliss. It all hurt and it all felt like heaven. 

She was close, he could feel it. She was burning up and she began to lose her remaining control. 

“Let go!” Lucius whispered into her mouth.

He pulled her further away by her hair. He wanted to watch her face as she climaxed. 

Because he was drowning, he was suffocating. And he wanted to choke on this whole whirlwind inside them and around them, properly.


End file.
